


Another Time

by m0rtalitasi



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Illness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:03:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0rtalitasi/pseuds/m0rtalitasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time marches on, as does everything else in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Time

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Arcade has cancer.

Arcade knew that the coughs were getting worse and what it meant. He didn't need another doctor to know that time spent smoking, living in houses with asbestos and crawling through radioactive muck with Six would do him in one day. And if he didn't go to a doctor, he was able to convince himself that he was fine. He was able to pull himself from the thought of black spots spreading across his lungs like spilled ink. But Arcade knew, and he knew Boone knew, but neither of them wanted to admit it.

Arcade sat outside on the porch, head between his knees, taking in deep and heavy breaths as the sun sank. He picked up a stick in his hands and looked at the sandy dirt beneath him. Smiling, he traced patterns in the sand as memories of him sitting in dirt as his mother worked hard over an open flame came back to him.

"Whatcha doing?"

Boone's head blocked the porch light behind him, causing Arcade to see him in a halo. Like he was some god or saint of meat headedness. Without another word he plopped himself down next to Arcade and handed him a bottle of beer.

"Drawing pictures," answered Arcade. There were no pictures to be found, just swirls upon unending swirls. "It always used to calm me down."

Reaching for his own stick to use, Boone proceeded to dig into the dirt with no ceremony and grunted when it snapped. Arcade chuckled and shook his head. The two sat in silence, Boone's head leaned against Arcade's shoulders, as the stars came out and all the patterns in the dirt were hard to see. Everything could wait another day.

Time began to creep on, days growing into weeks and months. Arcade had lived long enough for silver to streak through his hair, mixing with the blonde and making his head look dusty, but soon his hair thinned. Boone didn't say anything, didn't ask, didn't even really think about it. The coughing got worse. Everything got slowly worse.

But it could wait. It could always wait.

It wasn't talked about even as Boone became more tender and gentle and loving, more than he ever had. He had a habit of coming home with wine, or flowers, or that bubblegum Arcade liked. And he would let Arcade sit on the porch, catch his breath and then go sit outside with him to draw patterns in the sand.

Boone wrote letters to those they were friends with old and new and family. Cass came by. As did Veronica and her wife and kids who were old enough to be setting out on their own, even though Arcade and Boone had last seen them when they were shyly clutching skirts and pants. One even brought a wife who was heavy with a baby. Throughout it all, even as it got harder for Arcade to keep on, they laughed and drank and had fun. And Six finally made it, gadgets from the Big Empty to entertain Arcade and a grin and a shock of steel colored hair. And she was the one to say it.

That was the night they knew it couldn't wait. The night they curled up together when everyone was gone and the stars were out and cried together. Even though Arcade feigned blindness when tears streamed silently from Boone.

And that was it. No more outside sitting, because Arcade found it hard to walk. No more laughter because it made Arcade cough. No more friends because it made him embarrassed to be seen by people. All Boone could do was read in his slow, quivering tone from books Arcade had kept over the years.

It was a cool night when they last settled down together. Arcade had coughed less and had cuddled up warm next to Boone, kissing his face, neck, arms, chest. Telling him he loved him, dear God he loved Boone so much. And Boone said the same. And they settled down to sleep.

Arcade was cold and stiff when Boone rolled over to say good morning.

Everyone came out. A few Followers had made it out, Six made it, Cass arrived the day of the funeral, and Veronica brought her wife and children and grandchild. People who they had befriended in the settlement came out. A young woman they had paid to do odd jobs and chores around the property since she was still missing teeth dug the grave. People laughed, some cried, a few did both. Plenty of them got drunk. The house was more lively than it had been when they lived there, but that brought no comfort to Boone.

So all he did was sit outside on the porch, beer in hand, and drew pictures in the sand.


End file.
